


Waterborn

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Frottage, Half-Sibling Incest, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Seduction, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 06:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: “Jon?” she asks sweetly. “Is something the matter?”Yes, you. You and your perfect body that you won't stop showing me.





	Waterborn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the asoiaf kink meme prompt: "Jon/Sansa. A part of him wants to shame her—no decent highborn lady tries to seduce her bastard brother—and the other part wants to satisfy her desire, and his own. Aged up, please." Although this wound up more showverse than anything (but most of the details are so vague you can slot them in as you wish).

She's naked, pert pink nipples rising just above the level of the water, not quite covered by her long auburn hair plastered to her skin. Jon coughs uncomfortably. “Sansa, what are you doing?” he asks.

She seems surprised when she turns her head, but when she sees him, she smiles, almost innocently, and pops a few more inches above the surface. “Swimming, brother,” she says, her eyes drifting down to where he's already started to stiffen in his breeches. “What else would I be doing?”

Jon curses under his breath. He remembers when his sweet sister was so innocent, she hardly seemed to know what men had down there. She certainly knows it now, not that Jon is making it easy for her to avoid knowing, his cock starting to jut out obscenely through thin fabric. He curls his cloak around himself. “We should get back to the castle.”

Sansa nods. “Alright.” And without another word, she stands, and Jon can't help but stare as her long, nubile, womanly form emerges from the water, alabaster skin dripping wet. Her teats jiggle as she stands and tosses her hair back over her shoulders, but Jon's eyes are drawn to her hair elsewhere, the thick patch of wet red curls between her legs, aching to be licked clean.

It's all he can do not to pin her to the ground and take her like a bitch in heat.

He knows she knows it too, smiling at him softly as she, ostensibly, reaching for her clothing, but seems in no hurry to dress. If she were any lewder, she would be laying upon the ground and spreading her legs already. Her curls bounce and jump around her perfect pink nipples, and gods, he just wants to  _bite_  them. “Jon?” she asks sweetly. “Is something the matter?”

_Yes, you. You and your perfect body that you won't stop showing me._  He says nothing, and Sansa sighs, loosely fastening her gown over her – but not her underskirts or dress, so she's covered only in translucent silk, cunt and teats perfectly clear beneath it. “Do you think I can go back to the castle like this?” she asks, and Jon curses under his breath again. He can just imagine it, all the men in Winterfell staring at his beautiful sister, the foul things they'd say about her half-naked body.  _She looks like a Lysene whore_. Still he does not answer the question, so she simply shrugs and starts to walk past him until he grabs her by the wrist.

“Jon?” She looks up at him, blue-eyed and gentle. Then, she raises an eyebrow and fucking smirks at him. Jon growls and  _throws_  her up against a tree, yanking the belt of her dress so hard it tears, and she gasps as he pins her beneath his body.  _This is wrong, she's my sister, I ought to take care of her_. But she smiles at him, and gingerly steps forward, letting the gown fall from her shoulders. Her legs wrap around one of his own, and he feels her press up against his hard prick, making him let out a gasp of his own. Sansa giggles in his ear as she starts to gyrate against him. “That's it, Jon,” she whispers as he falls into the movement, grinding himself against her thigh. “Just like that.”

He growls, and grabs her by the hips, stilling her movements. He squeezes hard enough to bruise, water on his fingertips. “Is that what you want, Sansa?” he asks. “Your own brother's cock?”

He means to shame her out of this, somehow, or at least he thinks he does, but she simply grins at him. “ _Yes_ ,” she says, and reaches forward to give his prick a shameless squeeze, and it jumps in her hand. “And don't you pretend you don't want my cunt.”

Jon groans and steps back, his hands still fierce on her hips. “Turn around,” he orders, but she doesn't get much chance to obey before he spins her around himself, making her brace against the tree as she bends over for him. Her arse is so sweet, round and white, like the flesh of a summer peach. “I should spank you,” he mutters, not sure which of them he's talking to, but mostly just imagining it, the sight of her bare behind turned red at his hand, seeing her wince whenever she tries to sit, seeing her marked as his. “For being such a wanton – girl, bent on seducing me.”

He almost says the word  _slut_ , but he bites it back just in time. Sansa simple giggles again. “If you want me not to, that's a terrible way to drive the message home.” Jon knows, and that's why he really does slap her arse then, makes her cry out softly and grind herself back against him. With his hands he parts her cheeks, a thumb gingerly circling her hidden hole. Gods, it would be sweet to fuck her there. It would be sweet to fuck her anywhere. But Jon wouldn't, he couldn't.

She moans as he does it. “You're such a tease, big brother,” she whispers, and Jon curses again as he fumbles for his breeches, pulling his cock out and taking it in hand. He's still all but dressed when she's completely naked, but he knows if he stops long enough to strip he'll think better of this all. Perhaps, a dark and secret part of him likes it, having the little lady totally on display, while he still wraps himself in a lord's cloak.

“Oh, aye?” he asks as he slides between her legs, pushing back and forth along the length of her slick wet cunny, moaning at the heat he feels emenating from her. But he doesn't push  _in_. Instead her just rubs back and forth, letting her wetness drip all over his cock, teasing himself as much as her. “Am I not giving you what you want? Am I not fucking you hard and filling your pretty cunt with my seed?”

She moans and thrusts back toward him. “No, you're not,” she gasps, breathless. “I'm getting impatient. Before long you'll catch me with some other man in my bed, because you've made me wait so long...”

He growls again and his hands fly up to squeeze her teats hard enough to make her wail in pain, hard enough to bruise.  _Good. I want her bruised. I want her to take her dress off at night and remember who she belongs to._  “Don't you  _dare_ ,” he spits in her ear as he thrusts harder and faster between her legs, and she makes a choked noise of pleasure, her legs shaking around him. “You do that, I'll fuck you right there in the great hall in front of all our bannermen, show you who you belong to. Not just in your cunt, either. I'll use your mouth, your arse, until you beg for mercy. You're  _mine_  sis. Never forget that.”

Sansa moans, her hand moving down to rub at herself as he moves against her, her fingers dancing over the head of his cock. “Then  _use me_ , Jon,” she begs. “My cunt is aching, I want you so much...”

He moans again. She begs so prettily, he can barely resist, but... “I don't want to get a bastard on you.”

“I do,” she whispers, ball of her hand rubbing herself as her fingers reach back to stroke his length. “I want to have your babies, Jon. I want to see my belly swell with your child. I want everyone to know too. I want them all to look at me and know exactly who's fucking me every night–”

Jon growls and takes ahold of her hair, pulling her head back roughly as he drives himself between her legs, and gods, he wants to just  _fuck her_ , who in the Seven Kingdoms could not want to fuck her? “Can you even hear yourself?” he asks. “Begging your bastard brother to get another bastard on you. What do you think we are, Lannisters? If your lady mother could hear.”

Sansa makes a choked noise. “My lady mother is dead.”

Jon pauses.  _I shouldn't have said that._  Lady Catelyn remains one of the thousand ghosts about this castle, and Jon shudders at the thought of her knowing what he's is doing to her beloved daughter.  _Sansa looks so much like her now._  He wants to pull back and apologise, but he knows Sansa won't stand for that.

“Come on,” she whispers, rubbing up against him faster when she notices his hesitation. “If – if it scares you that much, Jon, you can fuck my arse instead. I don't care. I just want you. Anywhere, any way, I... oh...”

He can feel her trembling and she must be on the edge, to have lost control of herself so much. “I wouldn't do that unless you wanted me to,” he says, and then remembers his threats, or maybe promises, from earlier. “Do you want me to, Sansa? Would you get off on being buggered?”

Sansa moans, thrusting against him so wildly her breasts are rubbing against the tree bark, growing red and sore. “Yes – yes – yes!”

“I believe you,” he says. “You're filthy. So desperate for my cock. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she moans again, one hand rubbing furiously at her cunt while the other squeezes one of her tits. “B-but only you, Jon. I'm  _yours_. I belong to you. You're my family. So just fucking  _take me_ –”

But she can't finish that sentence, instead crying out and writhing wildly in his arms, so he has to grab her by the hips again to stop her falling as she peaks against him. That is too much, and Jon feels himself spending with a loud groan, leaving a mess of seed splattered across her thighs, and over her cunt. He doesn't think he can get a bastard on her like that though. He doesn't think.

Jon sighs as they both take a moment to get their breath back.  _I belong to you. You're my family_. Perhaps he's afraid Sansa doesn't want him despite the fact he's her half-brother – but because of it. After all, she's been through so much, and finds it so hard to trust. Who else could she trust to fuck her but her own brother? Perhaps that's why she tells him she wants his bastard too. She wants to make a new family, to replace the one they've lost.

She sighs also, eventually pulling from embrace enough to turn back around, reaching for her gown off the muddy ground. “So,” she says sadly, “should we go back to the castle?”

He frowns, and grabs her by the hips again. She gasps. “No,” he says, and squeezes tight. “I'm not done with you yet,  _slut_.”

And she smiles.


End file.
